


been so long lonely

by Sour_Idealist



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Terrible Beautiful Goblin Teeth, Trust Kink, those tags combine in exactly the way you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 07:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14588130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/pseuds/Sour_Idealist
Summary: Caleb doesn't mind Nott's teeth nearly as much as she expects.





	been so long lonely

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr prompt for an anon who has probably completely given up by now, but here we are.

The room at the Leaky Tap was peaceful, though not quite quiet: the afternoon hum of the tavern below, Frumpkin purring on Caleb's pillow, Caleb's own breath, and the quiet rustle of pages beside him on the bed. Nott read far more slowly than him – everyone did – but she fiddled with the pages as she read, and it made the whisper of paper as constant and soothing as the rush of a river.

“Ooh, kinky,” Nott said, very quietly. Caleb blinked his way out of his thoughts in a hurry.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

“Oh, this,” Nott said, holding up _The Courting of the Crick._ Caleb blinked, squinting at the book. He didn't remember anything particularly kinky... well, anywhere, actually, but certainly not about a quarter of the way in, where her finger marked the page. All he could recall at that point was –

“It's not as kinky for a human, I suppose,” she said. “Or a human and a drow. You have flat teeth.” She rubbed her thumb over her own mouth.

– A rather mechanically described blowjob. Right.

“I... see,” he said. “Is that not common practice for goblins?”

“Look at me for a minute,” she said, grimacing. It bared her teeth, faintly yellow in the light; all deadly angled edges that he'd seen leave marks on bone. That had scraped at his mouth, quiet and painful in the dark. She hunched a little lower over the book, turning a page back and forth; she kept the paper smooth. “I mean, would you want my teeth anywhere near... delicate areas?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, but Caleb had never been good at rhetorical questions. And the thought of it, of Nott's ears brushing his thighs, of her smiling up at him and the faint pressure of her teeth on thin delicate skin?

When Caleb was stupid and ambitious and young, and discovering his magic the first time, he used to call up flames in the palm of his hand for no other reason than the joy of touching it. He used to sit there for hours as the light ate at his fingers, laughing with delight – it was so beautiful, and so dangerous, and yet it didn't hurt him.

“Actually,” Caleb said, suddenly dry-mouthed. He licked his lips. “Actually, I would.”

Nott's fingers went still on the page.

“ _Really._ ”

“I mean, not if you didn't want to,” Caleb hurried to amend, half sitting up. “Only if you were interested. But if you ever were, sometime – I mean –”

This was the closest they'd ever really come to talking about it. They'd ended up, a few times, trading favors of sorts; they were both adults, they'd been alone a long time, and they had a habit of sleeping curled close together to keep each other warm. Nott was quiet in bed, and sensitive, and quick to come; she arched eagerly under him and panted encouragement when he slipped his fingers under her clothes, but froze like a frightened rabbit when he reached for the fastenings of any. He hadn't pushed; had stayed clothed himself, mostly, and panted into the back of his hand while she unfastened his trousers and brought him off in slow and gentle strokes. It seemed fair, somehow, to be no more naked than she wanted to be. It was always something they'd done in the forest's dark.

He wasn't _lying,_ exactly, when he told the others he thought of her as a little sister. She was dear to him; they got in trouble together; she was younger than him, though nothing like a child. He just... misrepresented some other details. It was nobody else's business but theirs. He suspected she'd done similar.

“You're _sure,_ ” Nott said, closing the book slowly. Caleb's breath caught in his throat.

“Positive,” he said. “You'd never hurt me.” Unbidden, he remembered her in the sewer, the way her head whipped around while he was speaking to Fjord and Yasha: _I would never hit you! I care for you!_ As if he didn't know that. He didn't deserve her gentleness; might lose it, someday, if she learned everything he'd done, but -- maybe not. Maybe not.

“All right, then,” Nott said, and leaned forward to kiss him slow and filthy, twisting her hands into his hair, dislodging a flower that fell to the bed between them. Close in the soft lamplight, Caleb noticed she had no eyelashes at all; then her tongue traced his lower lip and his own eyes fell closed. He bit a little at her mouth, gently; his tongue brushed the serrated edge of her teeth. Heat was creeping up his neck.

“I didn't mean now,” he murmured, looping his arms over her shoulders. “Not that I'm complaining, you understand –”

“I've been reading smut for the last half-hour,” Nott said, and lowered her head to kiss his throat. “Is this... all right?”

“Please,” Caleb groaned, tilting his head back. It was all lips and tongue, right over his pulse point; he squirmed a little. “If you want to bite – just a little, not enough for it to hurt, just...”

“I – okay?” she said, pulling back a little, and then leaned back in. She didn't so much bite him as rest her teeth delicately against his skin, but it was enough. She could very likely rip his throat out, if she chose, right from here; Caleb closed his eyes and cupped the back of her head, breathing harder. Nott kissed the same place again, like a kind of promise. “Like that?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“I don't understand why you like... this,” she murmured, tapping her fingers against her own jaw. “But if you do... I'm happy.” She looked up a little, smiling.

“I like you,” Caleb said, not quite an answer. “I trust you. I like this.” He ran his hand up and down her back, every bump of her spine clear against his hand. “I hope you like it too, or there's just... no point.”

“I like everything about you,” Nott said plainly, and her hands came to rest on the buttons of his trousers. “Especially this. Now, let's do this before you change your mind.”

“I'm not going to –” Caleb began, and cut himself off as she squeezed him gently and pulled his cock out of his trousers. “ _Oh_.”

“Go on, lie back,” she said, pressing gently at his hips; Caleb fell back to his elbows, shoving his trousers down around his thighs. He wanted, suddenly and sharply, to be naked; wanted her smiling down at him like this with every inch of his skin bare. She shifted herself between his legs, half lying down; her tongue flickered black and shining over her lips.

“You're very handsome,” she said, stroking gently up and down his thighs.

“I – thank you,” he choked out. He didn't usually look to be handsome, but he was flushing harder than ever now. He also tried, generally speaking, to believe that he was a grown man and had far better things to worry about than the size of his cock, but Nott's hands fit side-by-side on his shaft when she took him in hand, and the sight pulled at something hot and embarrassing in his ego. She worked at him for a long slow moment, while Caleb bit at his lip and tried not to whimper.

“You're a lot... bigger than a goblin, too,” she said, as if she'd read his mind. Caleb groaned, flinging his arm over his face; he could just catch her grin, smug and utterly delighted with herself. “I like it.”

“You're a terrible flatterer,” he said, trying not to squirm or to laugh.

“It's only true!” she protested. “And I'm doing my best.” He wanted to protest that that wasn't what he'd meant, but then she tugged at his cock again, and it turned into a choked-off wordless sound. She moved one hand to brace against his hips.

“Here goes,” she said, softly enough it might not have been meant for him at all, and lowered her head until his cock just brushed her leathery black lips. Her breath whispered over his skin, and he sighed; the light caught the jagged deadly edges of her teeth.

“Please,” he whispered. She stretched her mouth around the head of his cock and sank down to meet her hand. Hot and wet and lovely. Safe. _Safesafesafe_ whispered at the back of his mind. “Oh, thank you.” She hummed faintly around him. She could hurt him horribly, right now, if she chose. Caleb closed his eyes, grabbing at the bedsheets, and held himself still for her.

“I'm not going to last very long,” he admitted, biting his lip. Nott made a soft acknowledging noise, bobbing her head a little faster. He was already leaking into her mouth; she pulled back a little, tonguing at his slit like she wanted to catch the wetness there. “You're – _ah_ – the first in a very long time –” he admitted, and broke off when she sucked at him harder. “Oh, that feels good – please –” She gagged a little, making his toes curl against the bed, and backed off a bit. The mattress squeaked like she was squirming down against it.

(She was the first in almost ten years, and only the third woman – the fourth person – in his bed at all; he doubted he was _her_ first bedmate, but he suspected that he was her most considerate, and moreover that it was no high compliment to him. Loneliness drove people to strange places – loneliness had driven them to each other, come to that – and, sometimes, not to strange places but to ugly familiar low ones. He understood letting someone use you for the sake of something like kindness, though it was never sex he'd sought or offered.)

“That's good,” he whispered again, turning to press his face against the pillow. “Please, more of that, I like that very much –” Her ears twitched, the tips tickling his thighs. He hadn't expected that; he muffled a laugh of sheer delight.

“You're so – I –” He bit down on his lip, hard. Some things shouldn't be said lightly, and shouldn't be said first in bed. “You're so good to me,” he panted out instead. “Always, Nott – you take such good care of me –” It wasn't quite what he'd meant to blurt out, but he was close, too close to think, close enough that he whimpered when she pulled off. “Wh –” He opened his eyes.

She had her head thrown back, her eyes screwed closed, her ears pinned back flat to the sides of her head. Her other hand was long gone from his hip, though he'd been too distracted to notice; he could guess where her fingers were from the way her hips were grinding down. Her hand spasmed around his cock; her teeth dug into her lower lip, a single drop of black blood beading up from the skin.

Every muscle in Caleb's body locked up as he came, shuddering, shaking, his vision going starry-black. When he opened his eyes, he'd made a mess of the two of them, and there was white streaked across her cheek and her lips, stark on her spittle-shining skin.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “I meant to warn you.”

“No, no.” Nott's voice was raspier than normal, and the sound of it wrung a last desperate twitch from his cock. “It's fine,” she added, and thoughtfully reached up to lick her fingers clean, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She didn't make a show of it at all, simply acted like it was the most practical way to clean up, and Caleb wanted to pull her close and kiss her and go again immediately, all biology be damned.

“Come here,” he said instead, tugging at her shoulder. She crawled up the bed easily, nestling against his chest. He tugged her other hand up to his mouth, the one she'd had between her legs; she had two fingers slick and wrinkled, shining. “May I?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

“May you – oh! I.. it's probably going to taste very strange to you?” she said. “But, I mean, if you want to...” Hesitantly, she laid her fingers against his lips. Caleb sucked them in, careful of her claws.

“Mmm.” The taste was a little startling, more astringent than anyone else he remembered, but he cleaned her fingers anyway. “I'd like to, ah, return the favor,” he said. “Sometime. If you'll permit it.”

“I...” She hid her face against his shoulder. “Let me think about it,” she said, a little muffled. “I mean, if you're absolutely sure you want to. I...”

“I want to,” Caleb promised, kissing her hair. “I very much want to.” He wanted to know what sounds he could wring out of her; wanted to know how she looked naked in the light. He yawned, jaw-cracking and deep. “Pull up the blankets?” he asked. One advantage to being only half-undressed: they hadn't left much of a wet spot.

“Mmm.” She did. Caleb refastened his trousers; he was still sticky, all sweat and saliva, but he also didn't much care. It would hardly make him more of a mess than he was.

“We shouldn't sleep,” Nott murmured against his throat. “I mean, it's getting close to dinner, we should...”

“You're right,” Caleb said, yawning. “But not right away, ja? We can stay here a little while.”

“Mmm.” Nott reached up, smoothing his hair back. Her mouth quirked like she meant to say something; she didn't.

Below them the tavern hummed on; below them, their friends would be starting to gather, looking for ale and a plate of stew. Below them was the rest of the world, who might or might not be able to guess (or, if they went down too soon, smell) what Nott and Caleb had been doing; below them were a great many questions Caleb didn't yet know how to answer. Story of his life.

“Thank you again,” he said, instead of anything else about what they were to each other. Nott smiled.

“Oh, not at all,” she said, oddly polite like she sometimes was. “Thank _you_.”

He kissed her. “You and me,” he whispered, pressing his cheek to hers.

“You and me,” she promised. For now, maybe, it could be that simple.

 


End file.
